


Frigid

by delina



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delina/pseuds/delina
Summary: Casey loves winter, except when things go awry, as they always do.





	Frigid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocoSand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoSand/gifts).



> A little gift, written last winter. This story is dedicated to SuWan. ♥

The night sky was almost entirely black. Behind deep, thick clouds only the barest haze of moonlight made it to those on the cold, dark earth. Tiny slivers of the moon would peek through, like a knife slicing a wound that healed momentarily, closing back up the deep starless sky. In those moments the world seemed to sparkle, glittering white points of light hovering in the air, but it was only the snowflakes that fell unceasingly, dotting the blackness of night.

The cold had crept into his skin, limbs still. Lips were chapped and broken from the harsh air. Snowflakes continued to settle silently, further obscuring his vision as the wetness at the corner of his eyes froze.

Snow and silence was the order of the hour. Those who would stay out late were chased away by the cold, or kept in their homes by the heavy snowfall, barring windows and doors and making streets treacherous. Just like a lady, the snow was beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. Dusting the edges of buildings and cresting over fences and poles, it was a natural decoration all its own that made foot and hand purchase shoddy at best. The ice made the world seem a crystallized gem, icicles that hung from the tips of buildings and the barren tree branches like a woman’s spiked diamond earrings: swords hovering above. The entire affair was a conundrum, that most people loathed coming and complained the winter months through.

It was Jack Casey’s favorite time of year.

Though many disliked being alone for the holidays, it was the time of year he felt the most content with his solitary life. The desolate trees and crisp biting air made the world feel empty and lonely, the life gone and hidden away. It made him feel normal, being out in this harsh world that seemed to suit him.

Certainly there were years he hadn’t spent the late December days alone. He’d met his roommate, the tomcat, on just such an evening, and shared his warm company all the day’s since. He’d enjoyed a few fleeting holidays spent in the arms of a lovely young woman. He could still recall her face flushed from the cold as she’d ran in from a late night train into his arms. He’d also spent a few years with flushed cheeks from liquor, sharing drinks with other sorry saps that had nowhere else to go but further into a bottle.

But this year was different.

The detective had a companion, complicated and atypical though it was. His thoughts kept chewing over that he’d never expected this, perhaps as a way to keep himself from overthinking how strange it really was. He’d not had a best friend since childhood, and never someone he’d consider a friend and companion… turned occasional lover. He couldn’t think about it too long. He couldn't let the wheels start turning with how odd and off-putting it was, how far from the norm, how outside of anyone’s reality- being with someone not even human. Sometimes, when he mused and let his mind meander, he could feel the creeping sense of dread of knowing too much: the tingling of magics and things beyond his mortal vision that he could now recognize. He would catch his face in the mirror and not recognize it for a moment. It frightened him, and yet, despite it all, he’d never met someone who accepted him more. He never met someone he felt truly saw him, and looked deep, rather than flinching away. Surely that was worth the confusion and occasional pain their strange relationship cost him.

It was hard not to think of it that way- a relationship- considering the things they both shared. It didn’t fit all the typical trappings, the things every boy grew up imagining, but it still filled that lonely space in his heart. When winter crept in this year, he still felt solitary, his home empty save his feline roommate, and his bed as cold as his broken heater. Even so, he didn’t feel alone.

~~~~~

When he had passed lit storefronts shining out into the cold winter night, boasting their finest wares, there was only one person that Jack Casey considered buying a gift for. The sparkling gems and golden chains that adorned the mannequins of the shop window only made him think of a certain person: Kiiryon. He’d known plenty of women who enjoyed jewelry, that would coo over pearls and the finer things, but whenever he thought of the redhead the sound of jingling bells and tinkling stone beads weren't far behind. It wasn’t a difficult comparison, seeing the glint of a shining metal band in a case, to recall those glittering golden eyes that looked with a piercing gaze.

Chewing his lip, the detective had pushed on, walking past the store windows, ignoring his sentimental thoughts with pursuit of his work. That late afternoon his mission was simple: catch someone in the act. Typically he had the tough work of figuring out whether or not there was a cheating partner- more often than not, women hiring him to spy on their men.

At times it could prove to be an ordeal, depending on the emotional tension of the situation. Sometimes people didn’t want to know, sometimes they wouldn’t believe even with photographic evidence, sometimes they needed to be comforted and one thing led to another… But the client he had this time was no frail waif or blushing naiive girl looking for a little reassurance. The lady who had hired him a week earlier had been a severe lady with perfect coiffed curls tucked underneath a fancy designer hat that cut across her forehead. Her every inch spoke of hard-cut certainty. She had few words but her money talked even before she handed him a check with a large number on the front.

She just needed the evidence, for divorce proceedings. She wasn’t going to let him get away with half her money if he was sleeping around. Her harsh words about **_those_ ** kinds of men and her narrowed look was something that Casey had to play off. But he would take her money. Good money for an easy job, and it wouldn’t even require convincing or bedside manner, just evidence.

Simple enough.

The job was made even simpler by the heavy snowfall. Besides the mood of the winter, it was the detective’s favorite season for more practical reasons. The snow made it easier to track others’ movements and cover up his own as the went by, especially when there was precipitation. Gangsters used this tactic well, as there were always some discarded bodies showing up come the spring melt. But above all, no one else was crazy enough to go hopping buildings and doing jobs in the deep of the winter and snow. Not so for Jack Casey. He knew this city inside and out, rain or snow, hot or cold.

And so it was easy enough to find his way to a stakeout position, atop the slanted roof of a nearby brownstone, curled up in the silhouette of a brick chimney. It faced the side of a hotel building, its stacked room windows only a few feet away from his perch due to the narrow city streets. The cold winter evening was surely not the typical situation to open one’s window. But experience dictated if he waited long enough, and the room’s activities were as suspected, a breath of cold fresh air would be just what such a couple needed.

He didn’t even have to wait long before a slender arm parted the drape in the window and pushed open the pane. Not a moment behind her was a man he’d been given a photograph of, who pulled at the woman's shoulders, turning her face to meet his own. Casey snapped photos, the shutter click lost in the wind at that height, his thumb forwarding the film as he went. The cold wind bit and the snow picked up, playing along with the detective’s smoky huffed breaths, visible in the chill. The couple certainly wasn’t chilled. Their passion increased, the man’s hand sliding between the lady’s clothes, what little there was left. The detective couldn’t help but huff a little breath and smirk to himself.

The guy better enjoy it. He was going to be taken for all he was worth and then some, the sonovabitch. A woman scorned, and all that. He himself would much rather tango with a jilted husband than wife.

Half of the reel of film was gone and Jack Casey was satisfied that some of the photos were worth keeping. He was certain if this was a consistent meeting spot for the couple- room number and all- that he could find them again. Maybe in the lobby, maybe walking nearby. But he would come again another day. No use getting the mark spooked and having him make a move on a lawyer before the wife. He knew to tread carefully with this one, lest she put _him_ and his pocketbook into her sights instead.

With his camera stored safely in its leather case and swung across his chest, the detective’s evening was free. Content to head home with a good day’s work done, Casey inadvertently walked past the same store he had on the way out. This time he didn’t have a place to be and his steps slowed to a stop in front of the holiday jewelry display. He chewed his lip once more, chapped from the cold, debating and warring with himself. A lady cashier waved to him, a bright smile for the strange man standing out in the cold on the street, and he couldn’t help himself.

~~~~~

Cold was consuming his senses. Unable to even feel himself shivering, his fingers were numb even as he knew he was flexing them. Jack Casey took in a shuddering deep breath. Pain blossomed as his lungs filled, but at least they did this time. The scene was easy to read, even as the gently falling snow wished to cover it, another accident to be revealed with the thaw of spring. Shattered icicles littered the drift where he had fallen, the holes they made like gunshots in the snow. The detective’s hat was discarded, skittered away atop the new fallen snow, leaving his scalp chilled and bared. He lay there on the ground, curled on his side, wind knocked out of him as he’d slipped and fallen from the top of the wrought-iron fence he’d attempted to leap from.

Jack Casey wasn’t as young as he used to be.

~~~~~

From the jewelry shop, the detective’s stomach took over. He had enough money from this newest job, having received half up-front, that there was room to splurge. When the opportunity arose, Casey took it. Though he needed a true dinner, the idea of treats and candies danced in his head. The season was certainly getting to him, as he walked past the bright display windows of a bakery, staring in with wide eyes like a lost child. The place boasted chocolates and cakes of all kinds, many on a holiday theme. Not only did he think of himself, but also the person that he’d purchased his gift for, which was safely tucked in his inside coat pocket.

What was it that Kiiryon had liked? The memories clicked into place, of red painted lips closing over a forkful of moist dark chocolate: black currant. His brown eyes searched over the tags in the display, denoting what each morsel was, curious if it was worth stepping into the shop. Someone stepped into him, bumping shoulder with his, his leather camera-bag swaying.

Always on high alert, Casey’s eyes narrowed, glancing back over his shoulder from under the brim of his fedora to see who walked past. He hoped it was someone bumbling, carrying too many presents, someone who slipped on the ice, someone elderly, or someone young. But his paranoia was well-founded in this instance. Two tall men took up residence on the sidewalk in heavy dark coats and slick hats. The shoulder-check hadn’t been an accident. The detective’s eyes met with recognition the taller of the two, a gangly man with short-cropped hair and a neck scar that was only barely not-hidden by a scarf. When the man spoke a few missing teeth were obvious, one of which had been the detective’s own literal handiwork.

“Funny seein’ you here,  _Casey_ ,” the tall man said with narrow eyes and spat the name like a curse. The other man in black beside the gangster was only slightly shorter, but many times wider. His face seemed carved from wood, a particularly gnarly and knotted piece.

“ _Funny_ , ain’t it,” Casey agreed. As always, these things started seemingly like a few acquaintances having a pleasant conversation. The detective’s stance was casual but he was looking for an exit. He didn’t fancy being thrown through another glass window, especially one that homed so much delicious-looking food.  After a moment’s hesitation and a faked twitch to one side, he bolted oppositely down the empty cold streets, footfalls crunching snow.

~~~~~

The half-frozen detective shoved himself up from the snowbank with a pain-edged groan, deciding not to become another wintertime newspaper headline of body found. His camera was safe, its leather satchel and his own body having broke its fall. His discarded hat he snagged as he rose to his feet, replacing it on his head, crumbled snow and all. More than anything, he only felt embarrassed of his misstep- until he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He staggered on his feet, hand drawn up to the source of the pain. His palm came away bloody.

Blood spilled down his shirt from the puncture, painting his shirt red at the chest like a songbird. Blood stained the ground where he fell in impact spatters. Blood dripped from his person, melting the snow around the red drops from the heat.

Casey was taken aback and whistled in a sharp breath that proved to be too much for his overworked lungs. He coughed, then moaned out a high-pitched groan from the further pain he caused himself. The warmth of his own blood spilling down beneath his shirt startled him. His body was so chilled that the sticky liquid felt red-hot against his flesh.

“ _Shit_ ,” the word came from his mouth before he realized it. Cracked lips let out a misty breath edged with a moan that hung in the air. “Yeah, ahm bleedin’,” he said, to no one in particular. Biting down on his lip he breathed sharp through his nose to calm his shaking hands. “Dat’s… sum blood. Lotta blood. Great.” Though he scuffed his feet to step to the side, the foot of accumulated snow couldn’t be escaped within the private lot that was entirely blanketed. “Oh, Good work, Casey,” he berated himself with an exasperated scoff.

Upon further inspection, it seemed the holiday gift that he had carefully wrapped in his front jacket pocket had twisted on impact and stabbed him. The length of silver had implanted itself under his skin on the left side of his chest, narrowly missing his heart where it skewered more than an inch deep. Had the object actually pierced his life-giving organ, he would have surely bled out into the snow when he’d laid stunned, breath knocked from his lungs when he’d hit the ground without catching himself. As always, he had a fool’s bad and good luck in equal measure.

He didn’t dare remove the object himself, not out here where he had nothing to dress it with. He was already leaving a trail of blood behind him that glittered black in the hazy flickers of moonlight through the clouds. At this time of night and so far from home there was really just one place for him to go.

~~~~~

Gave them the slip. Without even a gunshot fired, the detective used his knowledge of the city to run circles around the two gang members. There would be no broken windows or aghast shopkeepers. No injuries to befall the renegade detective on this incident. Jack Casey smirked as he scaled a large locked fence of a private gated estate that was an easy cut-through. He casually grasped the freezing black metal scrolls at the top and began to maneuver himself over.

Feet slipped. He had a flashback of a similar instance that had earned him a scar. Years back he’d vaulted over a fence that had long jagged points atop it and sliced open his calf. His body reacted mechanically to the similar stimuli, pulling his legs over and free. It left him without anything to hold on to. Before he could think he bodily fell the distance of more than twice his height. The detective landed with a yelp and a clatter that was buffered by the snow bank.

He was lucky that the foot of precipitation was there to break his fall and save him broken bones. Even so, the wind was knocked from him, and he laid in a daze. His eyes blinked up at the brutal dark sky and the trees and buildings that grew up around him at a dizzying angle.

Another different perspective. He was getting used to these since his time around his otherworldly companion.

~~~~~

Staggering steps in the snow led up the front door of a quaint abode. The house looked less modern than those around it, like it had been plucked from a hillside in Europe and found itself confused but comfortably nestled in the city streets. Snow sat on the windowsills and roof at half-foot height, untouched and perfectly scalloped. The plants that remained of the front garden that hadn’t been brought in to save them from the chill were bundled with a glistening layer of frost and snow on the remaining stalks. The house looked perfectly picturesque, like a holiday painting or Christmas card. Had the detective use of both his hands, he would have taken a photo. As it was, his own figure was the only thing marring the lovely image.

Jack Casey leaned on the natural wood of the doorway with his shoulder, attempting to appear casual and cover up his wounded state. He hoped his natural charisma would smooth things over.

The front door opened before he even had the strength to knock, the heavy wood giving a creak of frozen hinges. Standing in the entrance was the residence's owner, clad in a heavy robe that draped and tied at his waist. He already looked thoroughly un-amused. There was a jingle of metal and bells as the detective was looked up and down. Gold eyes widened enough to notice, then narrowed considerably. Those full lips pursed into a frown.

The detective was certain he was pale from cold and bloodloss. He’d bled all the way there, attempting to staunch the wound with his own palm, arm hugged around his person. Even so, he felt his blood drip through his fingers with every weary step. Thankfully no one could follow the trail. The snowstorm had picked up, wind howling outside the old-fashioned house, battering at the windows. Both his blood trail and tracks had been wiped away behind him. Jack Casey’s entire person was encrusted with snow and ice, the end of his shaggy ponytail frozen.

“What did you do, human.” Kiiryon’s flat low tone was more than familiar to the detective.

“Nice ta see you, too. Can ah come in? Ahm comin’ in,” Casey wheezed out a breath and stepped inside, and the man of the house allowed him entry silently. A familiar chirp followed as the front door was closed behind him. The homeowner’s pet, a large bird of black with knowing eyes, greeted the the chilled man cheerfully.

The detective tried to make it to the cozy armchair that was seated before the hearth. It was always alight, especially in these winter months. Before he could set his frozen self in front of the hot flames, a hand caught his wrist. The fingers were still cool, even against his goose-pimpled skin.

“You’re bleeding.” An astute observation as ever.

“Ahm c-c-c-cold,” Casey stuttered out in reply between chattering teeth. Even his goatee was frozen in place.

Without another word the redhead tightened his grip and tugged the detective along behind him. Up they went around winding steps to the second floor, and down the hall to a door the led into the bathroom.

The elven man’s bathroom was simple but luxurious. It always smelled of earthy herbs and spices, an outdoor yet clean smell. There was a lingering warmth in the air from what must have been a recent bath. Though it wasn’t as hot as the crackling fire downstairs, Casey thought he suddenly could feel his fingertips for the first time in hours.

The warmth was causing the snow to melt and start to drip on the floor. At least the bathroom was meant to be wet, and was surely what the elf wanted to avoid being tracked around the rest of his house, especially on his prized furniture. As always, with a confident stance and not asking, he started to help Casey out of his wet clothes. He gave a look at the camera bag, something the detective hadn’t used around him yet, but set it aside gently. The coat was more of an issue. The fabric was ice in places and refused to let go of skin it had attached to. With the overcoat removed, the gore of the blood spilled was obvious.

Kiiryon didn’t seem perturbed or dismayed, his eyes narrowed with intrigue upon the wound. He seemed to be turning over how such a thing happened, and Casey couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t quite sure either. He averted his gaze to instead study the room.

The elf’s bathroom had all sorts of unidentified objects in it, on shelves or tucked away in cabinets. Jack Casey didn’t care to poke through them or ask. He could never be sure if the bottles contained soaps and washes, medicines or something more grim. The things he’d watched the elven man steal away in his pouches in their travels still turned his stomach. Regardless, he knew the man could help heal him. Against all odds he trusted Kiiryon, and easily backed up and sat down on the edge of the bathtub when prompted.

Slender ringed fingers pulled the offending piece of metal from his chest in one quick motion. Jack Casey gave a shout of pain and surprise. He didn’t say anything past that, but hissed in a breath to steady himself. The wound left behind wasn’t that wide, a small bright red slash, but had deeply sliced the tissues beneath the skin. It continued to bleed. The detective was just poking at the gash with already blood-encrusted fingers, when the elf’s low voice made him look up again.

“What is this.” The redhead held what had almost stabbed him in the heart.

“It’s ah, uh, a present,” Casey offered.

It was a curved thin length of silver that widened on the top with decorative holes, which were adorned with twisted metal knots and ended in charms with dangling red gems. It was a hair pick, the lady behind the counter had told him. He’d seen Kiiryon wear things in his hair, even his pipe, and seeing the object struck him. He’d left the store feeling emboldened and only a tad bit silly. He figured he would have time to wrap the gift and leave it somewhere, so if the elf disliked it he wouldn’t have to face the embarrassment in person. But here they were.

“A  _present_?”

“Yeah, fah you.” The detective gave a small nod. “Lil’ worse fur wear, tho,” he admitted. It dripped with his own blood.

Kiiryon’s expression flickered, some darkness hovering there, before he breathed out a sigh. He used a towel to wipe the jewelry before setting it aside. He brought the cloth to the detective’s chest to begin to clean and bandage his wounds.

~~~~~

What if he hadn’t gotten up from where he lay, and just accepted his fate? What if he gave up and stop trying. It was something that Casey often wondered, but never tried. He just kept pushing himself onward through thick and thin. Through pain and toil to try again. He couldn’t stop and let the fear overwhelm him, to wonder if it wasn’t worth it. This was his life and he was going to live it to the fullest, whatever that meant, however long. Perhaps he was foolhardy, leaning on his feelings and gut more than his mind. Many seemed to think so.

But it was what kept him alive.

~~~~~

The fire in the hearth crackled and snapped. The illumination made strange sharp shadows on the walls that almost seemed to move on their own out of the corner of the detective’s eye. Still, the flames were more comforting than unnerving, bringing life fully back to his chilled body. After a quick hot bath, being careful of his bandages, Casey dressed in one of Kiiryon’s robe, ate some of the man’s food, and finally felt alive again.

The elf in question returned to the warmth of the room and offered his pet bird a morsel. The crow, blending easily into the shadows, ruffled its feathers in  happiness and settled into its perch. Kiiryon walked closer to check on his patient, a placid expression on his face. He sidled closer, warming himself by the fire and leaning on the chair where the detective sat, where he’d wanted to be the moment he entered the room.

Jack Casey chewed on his words, wishing to fill the silence. Being silent and still was always awkward for him. It left too much room to think.

Kiiryon tilted his head, charms dangling, and a glint of red gems caught Casey’s eye. Already the elf had placed the jewelry in his hair, slipped into the pulled bun at the top of his head. It seemed he liked the token. The elf always had his own way of showing affection. Face gone hot and thinking better than to mention it, the detective instead voiced the other thought stuck in his mind.

“Thanks. Fah takin’ care a’ me like dis,” he said, breathing out a sigh of relief. The color was back in his hands that he flexed, looking down at his roughened palms.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

The detective didn’t have an answer for that.

“ **You** should take better care of what’s  _mine_ , Jack Casey.”

Those golden eyes were half-lidded behind dark lashes as Kiiryon bent low before him. Casey's heart skipped a beat, his mind delving to inappropriate depths before he could catch it. The elf merely leaned close to the his wide chest, and placed his lips over the man’s heart, right above the bandages that were wrapped there. Casey let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He still couldn’t find his words.

“You are quite lucky to know such an accomplished apothecary,” Kiiryon said, speaking low against his flesh and the dark hair there.

“S'pose I am,” he agreed.

“I know how to heal wounds as well as cause them.”

“Glad it’s da fohmah tanite,” Casey replied.

He slipped a hand against Kiiryon's cheek. With his expression unchanging, he tilted into the palm just enough to show his enjoyment. Casey swallowed hard, wishing to lean down to meet that face. He must have tensed, as golden eyes glanced down, slender fingers tensing on his shoulder. He knew better than to move, though he wanted to. At least the man gave him his wish, and drew near. Their foreheads touched, warm breaths mingling. Jack Casey saw the barest of smiles grace those full lips.

“I suppose, as am I.”

The snow continued to fall outside. Quietly it brought the world into its deathly frigid fold, but the duo remained untouched by winter. The detective was warm in the arms of his unlikely companion, and in the crackling light of the fire gave that warmth back twofold. He felt he would for as long as his heart beat.

~~~~~

The End


End file.
